Too Late
by Arasulgil
Summary: What if Ron was a slightly slower runner than in the Deathly Hallows?An Alternate Universe for TIWSC.


School/Year: Beauxbatons, Year 5

Theme: Voldemort Wins AU

Prompt: (main)Ron Weasley,snowing ,domineering

W/C: 1 543

* * *

i:The Deathly Hallows ,pg. 251

What would you do if you had to choose between certain safety and rebellion that would definitely get you killed?

Any sane person would probably choose the first one. But Ron couldn't abandon his friend. He was a Gryffindor, after all.

So he'd vowed to stand by Harry's side, no matter what. It had never been easy, but it was their only chance.

But he'd thought-well, hoped-that Harry had a plan, like he usually did. Ron was not the leader, and never had been. It stung most of the time, but it was the honest truth.

A few weeks into the quest, though, and things weren't looking good. They'd gone so long without proper food or shelter all for _one Horcrux_ which they had no idea how to get rid of. One tiny little locket with practically no use was all they had to show for a month's worth of effort.

Now they were huddled in a tent, his arm broken and his stomach rumbling. His head was swirling with more cheerful possibilities than his current state. Hermione said it was the Horcrux that was planting disturbing thoughts in his already confused brain, but now he was too hungry and tired to separate his thoughts and the Horcrux's.

"We'll move out of this forest tomorrow." Harry's voice floated dimly through his hazy mind. "We can try searching Hogwarts, or visit a village like Hogsmeade….even Little Hangleton will be a good place to look. Hermione, you can take the first watch."

_Clearly, Harry's trying to be domineering, but he has no idea what he's doing. He's blaming it on us! As if we're not trying hard enough, or doing enough…as if I didn't leave a perfectly comfortable life to help him! Do I get a thank-you? No. Why I am I even doing this?_

Listening to Harry and Hermione arguing with Phineas Nigellus wasn't helping. At all.

_So those two have suddenly decided that things would be better shared without me? How long was this decision brewing? I shouldn't have come on this idiotic quest in the first place! I knew I wouldn't be needed!_

"What'd you reckon, Ron?" i

_So they've remembered me._

"It's not like I'm enjoying myself, you know…"

When arguing didn't help, he walked out.

~ooOOOoo~

When he turned up at Shell Cottage and explained what he had done, Bill looked shocked. But times were dangerous, and Ron was still family. So, leading him to the guest bedroom, Bill told him he could stay.

Ron threw his meagre bag of possessions down on the bed with a sigh. Maybe he would finally get some hard-earned and much-needed rest.

His guilty conscience wouldn't let him, though. Bill and Fleur weren't helping: clearly, they weren't happy with what he'd done. He wasn't ecstatic about it either.

"But what _could _I have done?" he asked, in quiet conversation with Bill after dinner. Fleur was suitably occupied in the kitchen, to his relief.

"To tell the truth, Ron…" Bill trailed off," I would have expected most people to not accept such a quest in the first place. To any who did, I would have expected them to leave at some point.

But not you, Ron," he said, his gaze meeting Ron's blue eyes levelly. "I never expected it from you."

Then, and only then, did Ron feel the full weight of what he had done, crashing on him in its entirety. He had abandoned- yes, that was the word- not only the Boy Who Lived, symbol of hope to the Wizarding World, but his _friends._

Looking up, he realized that Bill understood. "Yes, you should," he said softly. "They'll find it in their hearts to forgive you."

He left on Christmas Eve.

Following the Deluminator, he did see what could have been them. But it was too dark to tell. When it started snowing again, he Apparated to the Forest of Dean.

_This Deluminator's pretty useful after all…now where are they?_

~ooOOOoo~

Harry crept after the Patronus, which lightly tramped through the softly falling snow. It stopped at the edge of a frozen lake.

He glimpsed the sword through the ice. Trying a Summoning Spell turned out to be useless.

He knew what he had to do, but it definitely did not ease his task.

Disrobing, he leapt into the pool.

With his first step, his body started to regret it. The cold felt like fire, searing through his bones and lungs and brain; his body was urging him to get OUT.

But he had come here to get something.

He dived for the Sword.

If the surface of the pool was painful, then this was pure torture. The only thought he could force through his agonized brain was_: Get the sword!_

As soon as he closed his numb, uncooperative fingers around the sword's hilt, he felt something constricting his neck. He raised a hand to untangle whatever was choking him.

The Horcrux's chain kept tightening. Harry pushed harder, fought wildly, but it was no use. The oxygen in his lungs was already used up. He began to swim towards the surface, but he felt his head spin, saw black dots dancing in front of his eyes, and knew no more.

~ooOOOoo~

He ran behind the Patronus, not caring how much noise he made, for he felt it. He felt that Harry needed him.

So he ran faster, learning to ignore the burning ache in his legs and the pain in his lungs, keeping his eyes trained on his destination.

Ron arrived at the pond in time to witness the lifeless body of Harry James Potter drifting to its surface.

"No!" he yelled, racing to the body- no, _**Harry, **__because it was him, he'd only swallowed some water, he'd wake up soon…..no, he can't be dead, no, please…_

He felt at the side of his neck for a pulse. Five seconds passed…ten…thirty…a whole minute…three minutes…five minutes.

There was no pulse.

Hermione came sprinting through the snow, her bushy hair flying out behind her. Even in his misery, Ron wondered how she looked so beautiful, as always.

_Stop it, idiot. She won't want to talk to you again after what you've done._

"Harry?" she whispered. She looked up at Ron. "What happened?" she asked, her tone suddenly fierce. Too tired to stand up, he sighed.

"He dove for a sword," he said, and by her expression, she knew fully well what that sword was. "He forgot to remove the locket before he did. It choked him."

"We lost, Ron," she muttered, the fight ebbing away from her. "You-Know-Who won."

~ooOOOoo~

Many, many kilometres away, a certain Dark Lord felt the destruction of one of his Horcruxes. But it did not bother him. On the other hand, it filled him with ecstasy.

Touching the Dark Mark, Voldemort flew to Hogwarts.

Oh, the teachers marched out to meet him. A simple _Sonorus _and he made the announcement.

"Wizards and witches of Britain,

I come here not to steal, but to take what is mine. Some of you are fighting. Why are you fighting? If you are fighting for the Boy Who Lived, let me tell you this:

He is dead. Harry Potter died today, not killed by the hands of me or any of my Death Eaters, but abandoned by those he called friends, misled by whom he deemed a mentor. He drowned in a lake in the Forest of Dean, choked by a trinket he stole. Although most of you supported him, he died alone. There they come!"

_Oh no, _Ron thought. _It's over for us. We've failed. _

As Voldemort dragged them out from behind a hedge with a Full Body-Bind and a Summoning Charm, Ron hoped they wouldn't be tortured.

Voldemort didn't need to prove anything now, though. The body of his former enemy lay lifeless at his feet. "This is what happens to those who rebel," he said, his ghoulish smile spreading over his snakelike face. "In the end, it is never worth it."

He gave them two hours to conduct a funeral service, which, under the direction of Minerva McGonagall, was done swiftly. The whole of Wizarding Britain wept; their last hope was gone.

There were several other losses buried alongside Harry, those who had been killed in the ongoing battle before Hermione and Ron arrived. Fred Weasley. Remus Lupin. Nymphadora Tonks. So many others.

After the funeral, Voldemort publicly announced his rule over the Wizarding World and ordered the imprisonment of all those who directly aided Harry.

Ron felt numb, empty. When Greyback and Dolohov captured him and Hermione, tied them up and Apparated them to Malfoy Manor, Ron didn't feel anything. Not even when they were shoved roughly down stairs and locked in a cellar.

Voldemort returned the following day, bringing the Cruciatus Curse with him. Under his, Bellatrix's and Greyback's combined efforts, Ron soon slipped into unconsciousness.

~ooOOOoo~

_Fifteen years later_

Scorpius Malfoy walked into a new Hogwarts.

There was no Defence against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies or Care of Magical Creatures. His father said that the Dark Lord initially wanted to raze all houses except his own, but to encourage competition, he'd only destroyed Gryffindor.

It was a new world. He loved it.


End file.
